Carnivore
by Ava Chanel
Summary: Every Hallow's Eve for several years now, Garfield Logan can't help but think back to the mysterious woman who'd hooked claws through his heart, and laid claim to his very soul...BBRae AU Halloween Special. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _Happy Spoopy Halloween, y'all! Enjoy this two parter BBRae AU as a break from Exhibitionist! :)_

* * *

 _'the moon has awoken with the sleep of the sun,_  
 _the light has been broken;_  
 _the spell has begun...'_

~Midgard Morningstar

 **CARNIVORE**

* * *

Seven years was a long time to be thinking about someone.

Seven years, and a chance encounter of the rarest kind, shrouded in the same sort of mysticism that encompassed an eerie night like Hallow's Eve. Like the rolling fog, Garfield Logan's mind was in a haze, and he couldn't, for the life of him, go back to sleep, no matter the time.

He stood by the open window of his bedroom and stared out onto the empty streets, the chill of the autumn night air cool against his naked torso, making his skin prickle into tiny goosebumps, and all the fine hair to stand on end. The moon hung low in the black sky, grey clouds — like tufts of cotton — putting thin, ominous streaks through its yellow glow. Breathing in the refreshing air, with the bitter taste of old rain and fallen leaves hitting the back of his throat, Garfield closed his eyes and tried to remember the auspicious events that had taken place on a similar night all those years ago.

Somewhere behind him, his girlfriend breathed softly in her sleep, long, yellow hair like a halo splayed onto the pillowcase and gleaming like spun gold in the moonlight. She was none the wiser to her boyfriend's addled mind, nor to the strange woman that plagued his thoughts and haunted his heart.

He ought to have felt guilty, but three hundred and sixty-four days of the year, she was the furthest from his dreams. It was only one night that she claimed for herself. Besides, it had been _seven years_. She was gone, like the same wind that had brought her into his life — the one now fluttering through his curtains and washing against his face, ruffling his unkempt hair like a lover's caress. He had to move on at some point, he had to live the life she'd spared. How else did one survive such a close brush-in with death herself? Especially when death had happened to look like _her_.

Seven years was a long time to still be thinking about someone, especially a woman he'd only come to know for a matter of hours.

Back then, it had felt like a lifetime.

" _I'm going to let you live."_

Garfield could still hear her sultry voice in his ear, her cherry breath tickling his skin and eliciting another unsatisfied ache from deep within his loins. Even now — even after making love to the woman sleeping in his bed — he still tingled with that familiar, incessant yearning. The desire he never quite seemed to quench no matter how many women he took to bed. Like a sucker punch to the gut, there was nothing he could do about the way he felt, not on the Eve of Halloween, where her presence was practically omnipotent.

She was in the wind when it howled.

In the eye of the moon, where the clouds did not touch.

In the faint rustle of dead leaves as they scurried along the empty streets in a hypnotic dance.

She was in the sharp smell of freshly fallen autumn rain, and when he'd opened his window, he'd unwittingly let in the ghost of her, the memories flooding his senses like a train crash.

Every year, for the past seven years, it was the one day Garfield couldn't take her scent off his skin, or forget the way her cherry lips had tasted. The point of her pink tongue darting out to tangle with his, or to boldly taste the salt off his flesh.

The wind kept him awake, because his dreams consisted of nothing but her.

" _I'm going to let you live, and you will never forget me, the same way I won't forget you..."_

An eye for an eye. She'd laid her curse on him with a handful of words, and now she resided at the forefront of his mind, just like she'd promised…

* * *

 _Seven years ago, October 31st..._

"Are you going to be a moping lump all night, Logan?"

Donna Troy had his best interests at heart, he knew that, but it didn't stop Garfield from feeling like an outsider at a party he'd help plan.

He inhaled deeply and stared into the bottom of his cup because it was currently less judgemental than his friend. "Easy for you to say. _You're_ not the one who was rejected for a pretty boy." His bitterness was difficult to mask, so he didn't even try.

Slumped against the wall in the living room of the fraternity house, Garfield took another deep swig of the tasteless, cheap beer in his plastic cup and continued to feel sorry for himself. Donna's impressive height, now with the addition of a pair of sparkly six inch pumps, forced her to lean down in order to fix the flaxen-haired young man with a tired, unamused look. "Oh, quit it, Gar. You weren't even _that_ into her."

"Was too!"

"No." She shook her head, and clucked her tongue. "You only say that because now that you can't have her, you want her even _more_." Scoffing with hands on her hips, she added, "Typical of men, honestly."

As if on cue, Garfield glanced up and his eyes automatically picked her out of the crowds — the object of his desire. Adding salt to the wound, the buxom blonde was dressed up like a character from one of his favourite comic franchises; the X-Men. Not to mention, one of the hottest. Of course she'd be perfect for the look of Emma Frost, white corset and all. He sighed longingly; they'd have been a _perfect_ couple, and maybe he'd have dressed up as Cyclops instead of the angry green avenger.

Donna broke his line of sight by moving to stand in front of him, puckering her lips and furrowing her brows when she'd realized he'd been ignoring her.

"That's not true, Donna," he started, going on the defensive before she could reprimand him. "I've _always_ liked her since elementary school, but I never figured she was into me, and I didn't want to ruin our friendship! That's why I didn't ask her out. And now…" He sulked, feeling down-trodden all over again when he saw the way the jock dressed as Captain America placed a possessive hand on the small of her back. "Now, _I'm_ the loser."

Garfield drained the last bit of his beer before slamming the red solo cup onto a nearby table. He then buried his face in his hands and slid down towards the ground, the music loud enough to bring the floor to a shake with every beat.

"Wow. I don't think I've ever seen you this torn up about some chick. Especially since there are tons of pretty girls walking around your house in skimpy costumes tonight. I'd say plenty of other fish in the sea, Gar. So get up, get your game face on, and go mingle!" Donna hooked an arm beneath his shoulder and hoisted him up with a gentle grunt.

She was always strong considering she was top wrestler on her team, and thus found it easy to manhandle Garfield's smaller form. Her being a babe didn't make it any less mortifying, though. "Quit it! You're embarrassing me!" He swatted at her, coming to his feet when she wouldn't let up, and hoping against hope no one had bore witness to them making a scene. His cheeks were aflame, and he almost growled at his friend in retaliation.

"Why not try a girl out of your norm for once, Gar?" Donna queried, choosing to ignore his dramatic fussing.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She rolled her eyes, exasperated with his obliviousness. "I mean, maybe try someone _not_ blonde and doe-eyed for once? You sort of have a type."

He appeared bashful at her observation and leered at her with a waggle of his brows. "Oh, Donna. We all know that _you're_ the only brunette for me."

Garfield batted his eyelashes at her before she playfully shoved him away. "In your dreams, pipsqueak," she teased, but not without some colour in her cheeks.

The music boomed to life in the room as the track changed, and couples were dancing along, costumed bodies writhing in the blue strobe lights. "We can't all be tall gingers with biceps the size of watermelons, I guess." Garfield shrugged, wearing a cheeky grin.

Donna's smile grew, dark blue eyes twinkling because she knew exactly whom he was referring to and had no shame in admitting to it. "You never stop, do you?" she chuckled.

"Never."

Her smile was infectious, dimples making her look even cuter in the weird hippie makeup she wore for the night.

"A shame, because if you did, then maybe you'd have spied the cutie eyeing you this whole time." Donna winked before turning on her heel and walking towards the dancefloor, tossing waves of her thick, obsidian locks over her shoulder.

Garfield was thrown off by this new information, and he snapped his head in every direction, wondering if he'd lock eyes with the girl Donna had mentioned.

But no one was staring back, and this, sadly, didn't even surprise all, why have a poor imitation of Bruce Banner when there were practical _clones_ of Steve Rogers walking around?

He was a wallflower, green body paint or not. "Nice try!" he called after Donna, annoyed. "By the way, a hippie isn't dress code! The memo said the theme is _superheroes_!"

Donna, now dancing and almost lost among the throng of bodies, shrugged at him when she couldn't hear him over the pulsating music pouring out of the massive speakers they'd rented. Realizing she was a lost cause, he waved her away dismissively and decided he needed a top up for his drink if he was going to survive the rest of the night.

Garfield then headed to the crowded bar tables at the end of the room and patiently waited his turn, trying to take his buzzed mind off of the girl he'd lost. One day, he'd stop blaming himself for all of his shortcomings. For ruining his own life. For always putting his foot in his mouth when it came to girls he liked. Glancing off to the side, he found a young couple making out in the nearby corner, their hands all over the place, not caring for whoever saw them. In their own little bubble, the rest of the world didn't exist. Garfield looked fixedly in their direction whilst wearing a forlorn expression before finally growing frustrated with his own jealousy and incompetence.

Inhaling through his nose, he turned his attention back to the slow moving line before him. As he did so, a soft glow of bright red caught his eye. In obvious contrast to the dark surroundings of the frat house, it was difficult to miss and automatically drew his curiosity.

At first, he assumed it was the glare off of a costume; maybe a set of red gems or a piece of shiny sequins. It shimmered in his peripheral vision, like something that didn't quite belong. It was too bright, too vibrant to be anything of the natural world.

One more concentrated look, and he came to learn that it was her _eyes_. They were a brilliant shade of ruby red, mesmerizing in the darkness like a set of neon lights.

 _The colour of blood._

She stood by her lonesome, surveying the crowd with indifference, and leaned back against the bar table. Garfield couldn't help himself; it was like word vomit when he spoke to her when he'd reached the front of the line. "Those are some pretty sweet contact lenses."

He hadn't been prepared for her, if he was being honest. From most angles, she was just a young slip of a woman, but up close, she was a hurricane. Inhaling sharply, he had to back away, like he'd been blown off balance by some invisible force. Once he saw her, he couldn't understand how he'd missed her in the first place; in a room full of vibrantly dressed strangers, she stood out. In fact, Garfield couldn't tear his gaze away from her, much less remember how to breathe.

The woman set her eyes on him, and something a lot like a slow smile curled lips that were painted with a colour akin to the blood of a dark berry. The deep, rich lipstick was in direct contrast to her ivory skin, much like the crimson of her unnatural eyes.

She wore her hair short, cropped just below her ears, but it framed her heart-shaped face in a perfect compliment. Donna would have been proud — her hair was an inky violet, almost black, the purple hues turning blue in the strobe lights. A rounded red gem sat in the centre of her forehead, gleaming like a ruby. She also wore a set of earrings in the shape of sparkling gold stars, as if she'd plucked them from the night sky itself.

"Woah…," he whispered, breathless. Garfield's heart was off to the races, pounding in his chest. No way in hell he stood a chance with a girl like _her_. Never in a million years. What had he been thinking when he'd decided to approach her? Had he been thinking at all?

"Thanks." Her voice was like velvet, sultry and deeper than he'd expected.

"Uhm...yeah, they uh, really match your...costume?"

His eyes carefully roamed the rest of her figure, and he swallowed at the lump in his throat. "Which, by the way, a take on Vampirella, I'm guessing? Cool. She's a total babe."

The stranger looked down at her outfit, as if trying to deduce the comparison. She wore a leotard that tied at the nape of her neck in a shade of red only a touch lighter than the colour of her eyes. With it, she'd paired a set of thigh high satin boots, a velvety cloak, a sash that spilled down between her thighs, and a flared white collar in spirit of the comic book character. She then lifted her gaze and brazenly inspected his own costume with an indiscernible expression.

"And what are _you_ supposed to be?" she questioned him, stepping closer to boldly run a pale digit down his naked, green torso, right over his quickening heart. It was like static when they touched, and Garfield tried not to let his gaze linger too long on the fullness of her gloss-coated lips.

How was it possible that the sound of her voice — paired with such an innocent, simple touch — could make his blood come to a boil, nearly giving him the symptoms of a heatstroke?

Garfield flexed the muscles of his biceps in a display of bravado, attempting to charm her — or at least make her laugh. "The Hulk, isn't it obvious?" He waggled his eyebrows at her but she remained unfazed.

"Forgive me, I'm not quite versed in this category."

"It's cool," he shrugged. She was way too hot for him to care about what superhero characters she was familiar with or not. "Can I get you a drink?"

This seemed to amuse her, and she smiled wider, baring her teeth. Fangs gleamed pearl white, the sharp tips looking real enough to prick skin. "Damn, you really went all out with those things, huh? They look real! You gotta tell me what costume store you hit up," Garfield commented.

"I'd love to. And I'd also love...that _drink_."

Finding it difficult to believe that a girl as beautiful as her had taken a shine to him, Garfield felt like he was on cloud nine every time she fixed those ethereal eyes — framed by a thick fringe of dark lashes — on him and _only him_. Green body paint, cheap green hair dye, and a pair of torn up purple shorts weren't exactly a recipe for most handsomely dressed. Not when there was a Captain America walking around. The fact that she'd come all alone to the party was a crime in itself.

"I didn't catch your name. I'm Gar by the way," he introduced himself, already forgetting everything about his previous infatuation with 'Emma Frost'.

She maintained the cherry red smile before stretching out towards him like a feline — nimble and meticulous with every movement. Her lips flickered against his ear, her hot breath sending chills down his spine in delightful ways. "Raven," she whispered, her smooth voice sending shivers down his spine.

 _Raven._

He licked his lips, trying to maintain composure, knowing he was like a house of cards — ready to fall apart at any second if she so much as exhaled in his direction. "Raven. That's pretty. Like the bird, huh?"

It was a stupid comment to make, and he mentally kicked himself the second he'd let it slip. Garfield couldn't help how tongue-tied he was around her; pretty girls always made him incredibly awkward, especially when they would flirt back, which was a rarity in and of itself.

Desperate to break whatever hypnotic spell she'd cast on him, Garfield grabbed the next available drink from the table, looking for any excuse to avoid eye contact and not caring for the bar line or whomever it angered in the process.

"Dude! What the hell?!" One of the patrons in the line exclaimed, giving the emerald-haired youth a fixed glare.

Raven chuckled behind her hand as she watched on, acutely aware of the effect she was having on him.

"Relax, there's plenty where that came from," Garfield informed the others that were lined up for the bar, knowing that he could always pull rank in the club as a viable excuse for cutting. It wasn't something he cared to do for _himself_ , but to impress a pretty lady...

Garfield handed Raven the cup, ignoring the not so subtle curses being flung his way from the other guests. "It's really not even the best tasting stuff, but once you get a buzz going, you'll hardly notice."

"I'm more of a wine drinker myself, if I'm being honest," she confessed, swirling the frothy beer in her cup. "But tonight, I'm craving something... _different_."

"Oh? Like what? I can see what else we got, but no promises. It's usually slim pickings at these sorts of parties. We cheap out on the drinks, it's true, but make sure everything else is dope, if you get my meaning." He was already heading to the kitchen to dig out some of the more expensive bottles of alcohol, but she stopped him in his tracks before he got very far. Raven tugged on his hand to get his attention, and it didn't escape him how cool her skin was despite the overwhelming heat of the house.

"I've never been much for crowds," she admitted with a flutter of her long, heavily mascaraed lashes. "I'm only here because a friend of mine wanted to attend. Take me...somewhere quieter, perhaps?"

Garfield's heart felt like it had lurched into his throat, lodging itself there until he choked. "Uh, uhm. I could do that, sure. Yeah," he stammered. "But, are you sure you don't want to dance or something first?"

He pointed over to the centre of the room where writhing, costumed youths were moving to the quick tempo of the blaring music.

"How about a raincheck?" Raven schmoozed, slowly pressing the front of her body against his, and running the palms of her hands up along his bare torso towards the broad lines of his shoulders. Garfield tried to fill his head with thoughts of his sixty-eight year old english lit professor butt naked, but was failing miserably. The chill of Raven's fingers was a welcomed escape from the hot hell that had become the frat house, and he was beginning to think he could lose himself in the deep crimson pools of her eyes.

"I've been told I'm more suited for ballroom dancing instead," she stated simply. Her voice was low and so near, dripping with seduction, meant for his ears only.

Garfield's hands grazed the velvety folds of her burgundy cloak where he subtly held her in place. She felt so good, smelled divine, he was hesitant about letting her go. "A classy girl. I can dig it," he said with a playful wink.

Raven looped her arm through his and hung on tight, her long, trimmed fingernails curling around the swell of his bicep and squeezing. The nail polish she wore resembled the red of her eyes, her fingertips appearing as if they'd been dipped in fresh blood.

"Why don't you show me your room?" she suggested coyly.

All Garfield could do was nod once, warmth spreading from his neck up all the way to his hairline. Her intentions were not lost on him, and as much as he'd gloat about the appeal of a one night stand to his friends, he'd never actually been much of a participant.

Raven clung tighter, pushing her lithe figure as close to his as she could, leeching his body heat the way frost would sap at a flame. He guided her through the crowds of people, pushing by with a tight-lipped half-smile in greeting or apology, as well as a brief wave of his free hand if it was the former. Eyes would widen at the sight of the stunning, jaw-dropping woman holding onto him as the couple passed on through, but no one dared say a word to his face. Instead, they'd whisper behind his back — like they always did — assuming he would never hear them. Garfield would have sneered at them all, knowing exactly what was responsible for their unbridled shock and petty gossip.

How did a guy like _him_ get a girl like _her_ on his arm?

Garfield couldn't help the pride he felt, nor could he ignore the swell of his now inflated ego, and he had to fight off the urge to grin like a boastful buffoon before he made a total ass of himself. As he led Raven up a flight of old mahogany stairs, he could feel the heat of his guests' stares boring into his back. It made him walk a little taller, his shoulders straight and chest puffed out, oozing with a confidence he'd only ever _dreamed_ of possessing.

Of all the guys in the room, and she'd taken a shine to _him_. Maybe this was finally Garfield's lucky break in his rather abysmal love life. For most of his life, he'd had a very poor track record when it came to wooing the fairer sex, and — much to his chagrin — it hadn't gone unnoticed by the fraternity brothers, who had taken every opportunity to tease him relentlessly on the subject. One side glance at Raven's perfect profile and he wondered if perhaps this was karma, finally paying it forward at last after all his recent girl troubles and subsequent bullying.

Scenarios involving the wily vixen and their possible future played out in his head, making him fidget with barely contained giddiness. Introducing her to his friends, going out on dates to the mall where he'd spoil her rotten, having a romantic, candlelit dinner at one of those super posh restaurants. He was abuzz with emotion, and unwittingly pulled her in closer. However, Raven didn't complain, seemingly content with their intimate touches, her curves fitting against him perfectly.

The music was significantly less audible on the second floor of the house, and there were also significantly less people milling about, as well. Save for a couple or two frantically engaged in a heated makeout session, hands as hungry for one another as their clashing tongues, the corridor was empty. Neither pair paid Raven or Garfield any mind as they walked past them. But the audible sound of lip smacking echoing down the hall was an acute reminder of what it would mean to be alone with Raven in his bedroom.

When her grip glided down to his hand, and her fingers tangled their way between the spaces of his, he started to sweat all over again. Raven continued to follow him down the narrow corridor, oblivious to the turmoil she was causing him while she almost stumbled in her heels to keep up. Garfield only let go of her when he had to pull out the keys to his dorm, fumbling with them in his suddenly clumsy and clammy hands. They had come to a stop in front of one of the many doors that lined the hallway. There with a dry-erase board next to it that read 'Logan' in blue marker, as well as some vulgar, crude artwork no doubt added by his more immature housemates.

"Logan. Is that your last name?" she asked, eyes tracing the marked letters that were written in his hand.

"Ah, yep. I know what you're thinking; there's a Wolverine joke in there somewhere," he teased with a charming smile, temporarily forgetting about the struggle with his keys.

"Gar Logan," she spoke his name slowly, feeling the way it rolled off her tongue.

He didn't know why, but hearing his name fall from her lips in her gravelly, thoughtful tone, it made the tips of his ears burn. As if she'd given him a taste of what it would sound like in a more intimate setting, where his hands and mouth roamed her every curve with nothing but the pale moonlight to guide him along.

"That's me," he noted awkwardly, forcing a chuckle. His mouth felt so dry, his tongue was sticking to the roof of it.

"Are you going to invite me in, Gar?" Raven's heavy cape moved as she closed the distance between them, and her shapely leg pushed to nestle between his thighs.

Her breasts squeezed against his chest and she raked her sharp nails down the most prominent vein in his arm. At some point, Garfield had inhaled sharply, not knowing quite what to do in a situation like this, but too enthralled with her to pull away either. She'd lifted her knee dangerously close to the crotch of his pants, and he almost had to stand on his tiptoes just to make sure the top of her boot didn't press into a _very_ sensitive area. All the while, Raven maintained eye contact, her blood-red gaze unblinking and making it impossible for him to break free of her trance.

"O-of course," he huffed, backing away when she leaned in closer. He could smell the subtle scent of her rosey perfume, and could probably have counted every single lash on her eyelids.

A sly smile weathered Raven's full, painted lips. "The door's open, so what are you waiting for?"

"It's what?" He blinked, temporarily repelling whatever spell she'd woven .

Garfield glanced down at the keys in his hand and then at his bedroom door in disbelief. It was left slightly ajar, when he could have _sworn_ it'd been locked moments before. He scrutinized it peculiarly with narrowed eyes. Garfield certainly didn't recall unlocking it with his key, nor did he remember leaving it open before the party had started. It was a cardinal rule to keep all bedroom doors locked during a gathering for security purposes. Like theft, or a horny couple desecrating the bed sheets.

"What the hell? I swear I locked up!"

He pushed it open, and the heavy, old wood swung with a gentle creak. "Did someone break in?" Peeking inside cautiously, he looked for any immediate signs of distress, but found everything the exact same way that he'd left it.

Raven then brushed past him, heading into the room without a care. Once inside, she grabbed him by the hand and tugged him along, a devious smile painted on her luscious lips. "Are you going to give me a tour or just stand there all night?" she quipped.

"Not much of a tour to be had, honestly." Garfield let her drag him into his bedroom before she dropped his hand and took in her new scenery. He scratched nervously at the back of his neck."Bathroom's over there, and that's my bed." He shuffled around, quickly tidying up any dirty clothes from the floor and flinging them onto the nearby computer chair. "Sorry about the mess, wasn't really expecting...company." He grinned sheepishly, but she was already opening the door to his bathroom.

"Uh, that's cool," he called after her before plopping down onto his mattress. "Guess even pretty girls need to pee," Garfield mumbled under his breath.

A moment later, and Raven popped her head out from the doorway. "You coming?"

"Am I...what?"

Her eyes roamed his body blatantly, no shame or attempt to hide the thoughts behind her explicit ruby stare. Garfield wondered if his blush was visible from beneath the body paint.

"I don't imagine you're going to sleep with that on your skin, are you?" She quirked up an eyebrow.

He glanced down at the splotchy green mess covering his body and frowned. Despite his best efforts, it still looked like tacky green washable paint — the crayola kind — smeared in uneven layers all over his naked torso. Puckering his lips, he answered her, "Well, no. But, I'm also not going to sleep just yet."

A dangerous smile curled on her glistening lips, provocative enough that whatever it was she had left unsaid was still blatantly obvious in her body language. Gulping, Garfield immediately got to his feet as if he were possessed, and remembered how to walk. One foot in front of the other, towards her, like she'd summoned him and it would have been blasphemous to deny her. Raven's otherworldly smile lingered, as if to chide him. How innocent and naive he must have seemed to her. Like he was but a child in the presence of a goddess. And the way she looked, it may as well have been true.

Once he'd joined her at the doorway, Raven disappeared into the cramped bathroom space with a swish of her long, silken cloak. Inside, he found her with knees on the tiled floor, bent over his tub, and filling it with hot water. The faucet knobs audibly squeaked as she fiddled with them, drawing him a bath. Garfield used the back of his hand to mop at his brow where nervous beads of sweat had formed. "I could just shower, you know. Would be faster."

After finally being satisfied with the temperature she'd set, Raven sat on the edge of the porcelain tub, her long, shapely legs crossed as she surveyed him patiently, beckoning him with her eyes. She then cocked her head to the side and replied in a pouty tone, "But there's no fun in that. A bath can be _so_ much more relaxing."

One of her hands idly played with the slow building water, palm barely grazing the surface as she made gentle, rippling strokes with her fingers. Her lush gaze then fell to the hem of his purple shorts, lingering on his narrow hips where they hung low. "Take them off," she instructed, her voice both commanding and velvety at the same time.

The sound of her made him want to immediately obey, to do anything she'd ask, so long as it meant he would please her in some way. _Anything at all_. "N-now?" he stuttered, heart hammering in his chest.

She nodded slowly. "The water will only grow colder, Gar."

Garfield could still hear the running faucet, bubbling as the water level rose. With itchy, compulsive fingers, he slowly undid his belt, helplessly compliant in her presence. The bright purple material dropped to the floor at his feet, revealing a pair of decorative navy blue boxers as well as the real colour of his flesh where the paint hadn't reached. Raven stood up and made room for him to get into the bath, all the while studying him, unblinking.

Licking his chapped lips and taking a deep breath, Garfield slowly stepped into the tub before lowering his body into the warm water. Already, swirls of jade sullied its clear surface, fading off his skin the moment he'd started the soak. Garfield cupped some of the water and brought it to his face, scrubbing his cheeks and around his eyes with his hands until the green coated his palms and caked into the creases of his fingers. Raven yanked a nearby face towel from the sink and dipped it under the running water, the golden bracelets of her wrists tinkling.

"Let me help," she coaxed.

She wiped at his face, her touch as gentle as the flutter of a butterfly's wings. Starting at his forehead, she then worked her way down towards his cheeks, and then his chin and jaw. When it came to his lips, she was even more meticulous, and her gaze seemed to fixate on her own movements, not paying any mind to the way he openly admired her, mesmerized by the perfect symmetry of her features.

Stuffing his hands between his legs to rest at the bottom of the tub, Garfield's knees bumped awkwardly against the confined bathtub walls. He stared down at his own reflection on the surface of the water when Raven had paused to wring the towel.

"You don't have to do this, by the way. I-I don't want to stain any of your clothes with the paint. It can be pretty annoying trying to get it out afterwards, I should know," Garfield stuttered, but Raven had moved down to wipe at his adam's apple and the base of his neck, dunking the towel — and her hand — into the bath water to refresh it. The porcelain tub was now stained in a transparent shade of jade green, and he could start seeing his own skintone beneath the thinning layer of paint.

"There's an easy fix for that," she responded, amusement laced in her voice.

Briefly placing the towel on the edge of the tub, Raven stood up and undid the bejeweled clasp at her throat, letting the thick material of her cloak sink to the floor to pool at her feet in a heap of crimson silk. She stepped over it in her dainty boots, the pointed heels clicking against his tiled floor. Garfield watched her, speechless and transfixed by her every movement and sound, his breath caught in his throat as rivulets of translucent green dripped down the contours of his face.

She unhooked the chained belt that sat haphazardly at her waist, red gems glowing in their sets of gold. They'd helped hold up a detail of her costume he'd previously assumed had been part of her leotard. A long, thin tendril of mesh red cloth, with small shimmering crystals embedded in it, had fallen between her legs and given her the false appearance of a bodice and skirt with high slits. The material sunk to the ground with her belt to join her cloak, and now that she was in the light, Garfield was beginning to understand that he'd misjudged her 'costume' entirely.

In fact, it didn't appear to be much of a _costume_ at all, and he'd been a fool to have assumed so in the first place.

Garfield swallowed, fear and anxiety he couldn't explain coursing through his blood. He stared up at the girl who'd so easily bewitched him, and took in every curve of her lovely figure in the skin-tight leotard that had remained.

Exactly _who_ was this incredible woman?

There was no way a face — or body — like hers would have slipped his notice in any of his classes, and if they'd shared mutual friends, how was it that none of them had bothered to introduce her? A creature so visually stunning, easily _leagues_ more attractive than any other girl he knew, would have certainly drawn attention one way or another. Plenty of the guys at the college would have clambered at the opportunity to date her, and so to stumble upon her, all on her lonesome at the biggest frat house party on campus, simply didn't add up. Either way, he was noticing her _now_ , and in that moment, it was all that mattered.

The leotard on its own was scandalous, and he could suddenly understand her reasoning for the heavy cloak. The suit itself covered most of her breasts, but opened down from the centre of her cleavage all the way to her navel, the material stretched taught over her curvaceous shape and narrow waist. String, shimmering like criss-crossed gold, held the suit together, giving the material the look of sharp edges where the string stretched over her exposed skin. Her modestly sized chest still appeared just about ready to burst from the tight material, and it sent his heart into a nervous flutter, the warm water doing nothing to help the growing situation between his legs.

"Holy shit…," Garfield whispered breathily, unable to control his reaction to her feminine form. He was in complete awe of her, eyes wide and unflinching, while she appeared to bask in the glow.

Carefully, Raven then bent down and undid the zippers of her thigh-high boots, in the meantime giving him a world-class view of her spectacular bosom. It was like someone had sucked out all the oxygen from the bathroom, and the steam that rose from the hot water was making him sweat. Or so he told himself.

With her boots set aside, and her clothes neatly folded over the toilet seat, Raven did something Garfield had never expected; she then stepped into the tub to join him.

The water — still running from the faucet in a steady stream— shifted with her addition, splashing over the edges when she lowered herself on top of him. He gasped sharply at the new feeling of her wet leotard against his skin, and tried to move away reflexively, but in such a tight space, there was nowhere else to go. Raven _wanted_ to be this close to him, and that much he could never deny no matter how pathetic his self-esteem actually was. She nestled herself between his legs boldly, the ends of her hair already soaked with water as she leaned in to rest against his chest. "You're so tense, Gar."

"A-am I?"

She maintained the same eerie smile, her gold earrings catching the light and twinkling like stars. "You are, but not to worry. We can finish getting all that paint off of you and then I can help you... _relax_ , hmm?"

Somehow, the water seemed to magnify her intoxicating scent coming from her skin. Like a rose in bloom after fresh spring rain, pulling him in closer with its sweet perfume. She must have bathed in scented oils, the way it clung to her body.

"Paint. Right. Yeah."

He couldn't think clearly, what with the rising steam, warming water, and the gorgeous woman laying on top of him. All Garfield could do was study the way in which the water slipped down Raven's pale, porcelain skin, and how it settled between her breasts or rolled down the curves of her dainty shoulders, making him lick his lips in wonder. Reaching for her hand towel, she then went back to work, diligently scrubbing down his abdomen beneath the water, getting unnervingly close to the waistband of his boxers.

With her position in such a confined amount of space, there was no way she wasn't already aware of his arousal, which was now throbbing against her belly. Garfield's hands were clenched into tight fists because he didn't know what else to do with them, and he was somehow terrified a single movement would make things worse.

Raven hummed softly to herself as she worked, wiping down his legs and arms and avoiding his gaze. The tune was odd, her pitch matching that of an eerie lullaby, but one that may have belonged in a horror movie. Like those children's nursery rhymes that foreshadowed the monster's coming.

"You have a pretty voice," he noted, trying to steer his thoughts away from the gutter.

"So I'm told."

Garfield forced a smile she did not return.

"And you…," she started, eyes darting along the planes of his face. "You're just _pretty_." She stroked the side of his cheek with her index finger, moving down his jaw to his neck, where his pulse bounded. Raven licked her lips slowly, her gaze growing heady where she was captivated by his throat. Something in the way the light caught her eyes made them flicker and glow, like ruby red gems.

His gaze then swept along the swell of her lips, taking in how close her mouth was to his. They were slightly parted in silent invitation, her soaked leotard sticking to her body like a second skin as she gripped his shoulders for leverage in the water. In a moment of pure instinct and deciding he couldn't stand her relentless teasing anymore, Garfield propped himself up on his elbows, using the tub's edges for support, and leaned towards her, hoping to capture her mouth with his in a tender embrace. His eyes fell closed, his surroundings becoming cloudy and dream-like. He could feel the huff of her breath as she exhaled, almost taste the sweetness of her tongue.

But Raven's wet finger intercepted him before he could find out what she tasted like. Garfield blinked and found himself staring into her captivating eyes, noting all the various shades that animated them, like he was staring at a map of the galaxy. There were flecks of reds and violets and indigo in her irises; seemingly impossible for a pair of _contact lenses_. Raven was smiling at him playfully, the tips of her fangs visible against her bottom lip. They gleamed a pearl white against the deep berry red of her lipstick. Lipstick he wanted to smudge all over her honeyed mouth with his kisses.

"Not yet," she whispered, eyes dropping to the fullness of his parted lips before lifting back up to the top of his head. "We still need to shampoo your hair."

She grinned, the lines around her mouth prominent, but not from age or overuse. Raven's visage was akin to that of a painting or a sculpture, where every line and stroke was intentional by the artist who'd created her. Meant to beguile her willing audience.

"Do we have to?" Garfield whined, his arms finding the courage to snake around her trim waist and pull her in closer.

Her bodysuit was now an even darker shade of red from the water it had soaked up, the material not unlike a bathing suit with how it clung to her skin. Raven's entire back was exposed, and his thumb tentatively brushed along the dip of her spine. She straddled his hips in response, causing Garfield to throw his head back against the tiled wall and hiss sharply, eyelids squeezing shut in painful ecstasy. Raven then leaned in, hovering over top of him, her hair falling forward like a black curtain. Closing the distance between them, she tentatively brought her mouth down against his, her lips both soft and cold and fleeting. Before he could react or savour the way she tasted, she pulled back, tugging on his bottom lip gently with her hot mouth.

She then sat up on his lap, hands pressed on his hard chest under the water, and licked her lips in a deliberate, sly motion, making sure he watched her relishing his flavour. At some point, Garfield's hands had grown bold in their exploration and had groped each of her butt cheeks, the tips of his index fingers slipping beneath the hem of her leotard. A low grumble made its way to his throat in the form of a groan when she rubbed herself against him.

"Soon, I promise," she mouthed against his ear, a smile in her voice, and then Raven proceeded to reach for the shampoo bottle sitting on a shelf near the tub.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Thanks for reading! Expect part two by the end of this week!_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** _Thank you for all the kind words and feedback! Apologies for the delay, it took me a while to get this edited right. If I missed anything, please forgive me as I stayed up pretty late trying to get it done and my eyes were drifting by the time I finished, lol. Enjoy!_

* * *

 **CARNIVORE**

* * *

"You're... _incredible_."

A woman like Raven he knew probably heard that compliment a lot, and Garfield partially felt like an idiot for saying it aloud right after sex. Even if it _had_ been mind blowing sex and quite possibly the best he'd ever had his whole life.

It was corny, but _of course_ he'd enjoyed himself. The real question was if _she_ enjoyed herself, too.

He lay in his bed, sprawled out with the sheets only covering his more intimate parts. Panting and covered in a sheen of sweat, his heart still racing, he mentally berated himself for his lack of tact next to such a stunning woman.

"You are a very attentive lover, Gar," purred Raven. The sheets were now modestly tucked beneath her arms and covering her bosom, but still exposed her long, shapely legs, her clammy skin the colour of shining ivory.

In the dim light of his room, Raven's eyes glowed like burning sapphires.

"I, uh, like to ensure my partner gets off too, otherwise where's the fun?"

She'd turned on her side to admire his profile, her head resting against her hand as she propped herself up on her elbow, wearing a most contented smile. Strands of her dark hair — a beautiful tousled mess now — stuck to her forehead, and she also gleamed with sweat from their vigorous activity. Turning to catch her taunting stare — her eyes always glazed in a shade of lust — Garfield wrapped his arm around her and drew her in closer, compelled almost intuitively. Raven's bare leg came to entangle with his own, and she hummed contently, burying her face into the crook of his neck.

"You probably get told that a lot, huh?" He forced a laugh, hoping he hadn't killed the mood with his big mouth.

She sighed contently beneath his jawline, the wet smack of her lips audible where she kissed his flushed skin. He could smell the roots of her hair, the scent of crushed rose petals in the rain.

"Being amazing, I mean," he prattled on. "Not that I _only_ care about the sex…"

Raven licked at his bounding pulse, tasting the salt and soap off his skin, her fingers tangling in his freshly washed, flaxen hair as she drew him in closer.

His own hands slipped beneath the warm sheets, gliding down the smooth curve of her back, dangerously low. "We should go for coffee or something."

All at once, Raven stilled in his arms. There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere between them, so notable that Garfield assumed he must have said something off-putting, and quickly tried to make amends. "I mean, if you want to, that is. I'm, uh, sort of new to this whole one-night-stand thing, but...I really like you, so if you wanted to grab some breakfast-"

" _Now_?" She pulled back from him, taken off guard. Surprise was expressive on her face for the first time that entire night, her cool indifference completely dissipating. Even her posture was stiff, her whole body tensing up.

Garfield chuckled nervously. "No, no! Of course not. I mean, in the morning."

A sultry brow was raised. "You want me to stay...until the morning?" she echoed dubiously.

"O-only if you want."

A moment passed by where Raven merely stared at him, her features still as stone with only the deep red swirls of her eyes conveying any life at all. Garfield swallowed, feeling anxious for reasons he couldn't quite grasp.

"You said you like me...but you don't even know me." Something about her tone had also changed — more monotone and to the point, judging him scrupulously.

Garfield wondered if he'd spoken out of turn. "That's the point of a date- I mean, coffee. To _get_ to know you."

She sat up straight now — impeccably so, her motions almost mechanical. "You...want to get to know me? Even though we've already had sex?"

Garfield blushed, knowing he didn't have the green paint to hide behind this time. "Sex is nice and all, but it's kind of better on the regular…" He couldn't maintain eye contact when he admitted to this.

What sort of girl liked a sappy guy like him, anyways? It was clear Raven was the hit it and quit it type, and here he was being the _clingy_ one.

"You want a relationship." She stated it more like a fact than a question, and it only made his face burn hotter. " _With me_."

"That's not what I meant!"

"Then what _did_ you mean?"

"Just that I...I'd like to get to know you better over coffee, and if we happen to have sex again later, that'd be okay, too." He was trying to make a joke, trying to save some face before she thought he was a creep and ditched him. But Raven didn't laugh. In fact, she didn't even so much as flinch.

Cocking her head to the side, she observed him the same way a pack of wolves did while circling their prey. "What if I told you I was going to kill you tonight? Would that change your mind?"

Normally, he would have thought she was _joking_. That she was just toying with him to get a kick out of his temporary fear. However, a knee-jerk reaction — coupled with the way she spoke so slow, and enunciated every syllable — gave Garfield the very real impression that she was absolutely serious. The notion alone was preposterous — a girl of such a delicate frame capable of _murder_. Yet, there was a nagging, irrational feeling in the back of his head urging his flight or fight response, and he couldn't understand _why_.

"You...wh-what?" Panic laced his voice, and he instinctively moved back against the headboard of the bed. Away from _her_.

" _I wanted to eat you, Garfield Logan_ ," she clarified, using his full name for effect, her face unnervingly impassive. "I wanted to feast on your blood until your heart had nothing left to pump."

Gulping, he couldn't help the way the room spun around him, noting a sudden temperature drop that left his skin in a prickle of goosebumps even though all the windows were shut. His heart raced with the pang of paralyzing fear that held him hostage. There was no point in trying to escape when he bore witness to the promise held in her gaze that he would not get very far.

"Why?" he pleaded. His voice sounded like a wheeze, and he knew she could probably _smell_ his terror like a bloodhound.

" _Why_?" she repeated. "Because I'm _hungry_. Isn't that always _why_?"

Garfield shook his head, pursing his lips tightly. He refused to believe this. It was a prank. Some wicked joke his friends had decided to play on him to spook him on Halloween night. "No. No, no, no," he shook his head vigorously. "There's no such thing as _vampires_. Either you read _way_ too much Anne Rice as a teen, or one of the guys put you up to this. Was it Bart? This whole thing reeks of Bart now that I think about it."

She shook her head slowly. "I do not know any of your friends, and perhaps that's for the best. I'm not quite sure that I'd have been as _kind_ to them as I have been to _you_."

She then crawled over towards him, rolling her shoulder blades and arching her back like a cat. "Either way, it doesn't matter what you call us; you're all extraordinarily easy marks, especially on the night you foolishly dedicate to us." Raven maintained eye contact as she lowered her mouth to place a gentle kiss on his defined abdomen, causing Garfield to shiver involuntarily. Even now, he wanted her fiercely, prank or not, and he was beginning to think — crazy as it seemed — that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't a prank after all.

Her plum coloured lipstick — deliciously smudged now — still left a faint mark against his skin. She then trailed more of her lingering kisses down past his navel, her fingers tracing up along the fine, honey-coloured pubic hairs that lined below and disappeared beyond the bedsheet border. Garfield sucked in a breath but couldn't deny his immediate arousal tenting the white sheets strewn about his groin.

"I could prove it to you," she said in between hungered nips at his flesh. "I could have a _taste_ , but I'm not sure I can guarantee I'd stop. Is that a risk you're willing to take?"

Yet again, the razor-like edges of her canines were on display in her predatory smile, and he could feel them just barely graze him wherever she placed a kiss. Now that he was no longer deep in the throes of passion, he could recall their sharpness against his tongue whenever he'd slipped it into her mouth.

"Vampires aren't real." he repeated, as if to convince himself the more he said it. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn't tear his gaze away from her, and it was quickly becoming apparent that he was unsure of Raven's humanity.

She then crawled over top of him until the tip of her nose touched his, trapping him between her arms. "Don't be scared," she told him, her raspy breath warm against his lips. Her mouth then brushed against his cheekbone before she reached his ear. "I'm going to let you live."

Garfield's heart was pounding and his breathing was ragged and unsteady, but he remained petrified, captivated by _her_ in a sea of conflicting emotions.

"I'm going to let you live but, you might just wish you were dead instead…"

She lingered her kiss against his earlobe, cupping his face with her cold hands, with nails like bloody daggers digging into his skin. Looking him in the eyes — emerald green, the colour of the ocean floor — Raven said rather sadly, "If we cross paths again however, I won't spare you."

They stayed that way a moment, staring into each other's eyes in the eerily silence of his room, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The party had died down hours ago, no one would hear him scream now, but the scariest part was that he _knew_ he wouldn't even if he could.

Raven eventually got up and out of bed, the off-white sheet slinking off her supple, naked skin like a curtain. Butt naked, she tread over to where her leotard lay on the floor and picked it up. Shortly after, she began rummaging through his drawers for a loose-fitting t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts that she then slipped on.

"Live your life, Gar," she told him after grabbing the rest of her things from the bathroom. Tucking the clothes over her arms, she opened the door to his bedroom and nearly strutted out on nimble, bare feet, the scene playing out like a snapshot that Garfield was likely never to forget. The neck of his t-shirt was stretched out and had almost slid down her smooth, creamy shoulder, the faded white material making the hard buds of her perky, dark nipples visible beneath the worn cloth.

Her chakra glowed a bright red in his dimly lit room, matching her ethereal eyes that now held a pitiable sadness he didn't quite understand.

"Live, even if you can never forget me, the same way that I won't forget _you_."

Just like a ghost, Raven then vanished without a trace, leaving him with a million questions and, more importantly, an aching, unsated _lust_ that would plague him for eternity…

* * *

 _Present day…_

"I'm supposed to be off duty," Garfield protested as he drained the last remnants of his beer, but he was smiling into his glass, his warm breath fogging it up.

"Is an officer ever off duty though?"

He had to chuckle at the truth of that, shaking his head in admission. "Alright, you're not wrong. But who wants a cop that's been drinking anyways?"

"Talk about inefficiency."

The fair-haired man shared a hearty laugh with the burly bartender, whose face grew fuzzy multiples through his drunken haze.

Garfield always drank on the night of Halloween; it had become somewhat of a tradition in fact. He drank to forget. To numb his brain and keep the memories at bay. Staying sober every other day of the year, he'd more than earned himself a night or two of inebriated toxicity.

"Besides all that, ain't you got a pretty little thing to go home to?"

Garfield stared down into his shattered reflection against the contorted glass of his cup. The bar was crowded. At least three drunk girls had already offered to buy him booze throughout the night, all of them he suspected were underage. He'd turned them down politely, and told them he was already in a relationship.

"She wouldn't want me like this anyways," Garfield confessed bitterly. "Drunk like a skunk." He swirled the ice cubes in his glass and sneered in distaste. "She got all dressed up, went to some fancy Halloween party at a rich guy's house. Playboy bunny. As if that's even a _costume_."

Rolling his eyes, he remembered the fight they'd had about it before she'd left the apartment in an angry huff. Not in regards to her ridiculous costume, but his lack of interest in attending the event, and general dislike for Halloween parties of any sort. Their argument had taken a particularly nasty turn when he'd remained silent on the matter after she'd brought up his one foot out the door attitude in their rocky relationship.

Garfield exhaled deeply and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling through the cropped, pale-blonde strands. The ends stood up haphazardly, like he'd just rolled out of bed, and therefore matched the look of his bloodshot eyes. This Halloween, it was apparent that he was going as an officer who suffered from insomnia.

The bartender then took away the empty glass mug from Garfield's lazy grip with ease, eliciting a dirty look from his grumpy patron. It was true that he was seeing multiples, and his head felt like it was housing a woodpecker drilling into his skull, but it still annoyed him that he was being cut off. Realizing that it was likely almost two in the morning, Garfield knew that she'd be in bed by now, worried sick about him probably. Or maybe he'd come home to the apartment only to find all her stuff gone. It was disturbing when he found that he couldn't bring himself to even care.

"Don't cut me off, man," he slurred, slamming his palms against the table. "Just one more drink, and I'll be outta your hair."

The bartender shook his head. "Go home, Gar. Go home, take that wretched thing off your girlfriend, and make love to her like it's the last time. You've had enough for tonight, pal."

Garfield kissed his teeth, almost snarling at the other man, even though he knew that he was right; he really ought to have called it a night. Nearly stumbling off of his stool, he reached into his pant pockets, searching for the familiar cold brick that was his cellphone, all the while muttering curses under his breath and narrowing his eyes in the bartender's direction.

"Have a goodnight, Gar. Did you need me to call you a cab?" The bartender called after him.

Garfield gave him the finger from over his shoulder just before he shoved his way through the crowds towards the exit.

Once he'd opened the door, the cold night air assaulted his face in a refreshing gust of wind. It made his clammy skin cool off, and flipped carelessly through his hair. Taking in a deep breath through his mouth, the fresh air cleared his lungs of all the smoke and alcohol that had polluted the tiny, cramped bar. He exhaled softly then, his breath a visible cloud of moisture, and then closed his eyes as the music thumped loudly from behind him, matching the pounding of his headache. Garfield leaned back against the rough brick walls of the establishment with his eyes shut, and allowed the biting chill of late autumn weather to help sober him up.

He stood out there in the cold until his head finally stopped spinning. Or, until he could finally see the numbers on his phone clear enough to dial for a taxi. People milled around the entrance, puking, smoking, or stumbling along into cabs. He watched them from the alleyway, glad he picked the quieter exit hardly any of the patrons knew about.

Garfield then dialed the cab company's number on his phone, bringing it to his ear and walking down the dark alley towards the dumpster, in the opposite direction of the busy sidewalk.

"Jump City cab services, how may we help you?" came the voice on the other line.

The sound of crunching leaves beneath his feet suddenly changed into an awful squelching noise, and it puzzled him, even in his addled state of mind.

Stopping in his tracks, Garfield stared down at the ground below his feet, squinting in the dark and wondering if he'd stepped on something. The noise continued, even when he wasn't moving, now morphing into an unnatural and disturbing slurping sound.

Garfield steadily lifted his gaze in the direction of the dumpster, a cold sweat working its way along his spine just as an eerie but familiar wind picked up. Something in the back of his mind told him to _run_ , but his curiosity — and his instincts as a police officer — rooted him to the spot. With trembling fingers, Garfield reached for the gun tucked into the holster clipped to the back of his belt, the cold metal a comfort in his slippery grip. A pool of sweat had made his dress shirt damp against the warmth of his jacket, the material uncomfortably sticking to his skin.

"Hello? Anyone there?" The female voice was still audible from his phone speaker, but he'd shifted the screen away from him to flash its light in the direction the of where he heard the terrible suckling sound.

"Hello? Hello?" But Garfield hung up on her, his thumb clumsily finding the 'End Call' button.

On cautious feet, he inched closer, his ears pricked for a new faint but ugly, gasping sound — like someone drowning or suffocating, sucking for air desperately through a straw only to be guzzling liquid into their lungs instead. Garfield's phone light illuminated a man's booted feet laying on the pavement, the rest of him obscured by the dumpster. His loafers twitched, legs writhing spastically, matching the rhythm of his gasps as he choked on what Garfield presumed was his own blood.

Someone — or some _thing_ — was there with him, feasting on human flesh with reckless abandon. Licking his dry lips, Garfield turned on the flashlight app on his phone, and whipped out his gun, pointing it in the direction of the body while maneuvering for the perfect angle against the victim's assailant. He mentally berated himself for forgoing his holster with his _real_ flashlight — currently sitting in the backseat of his car — this one damn time when he'd needed it.

"JCPD, come out with your hands up!" he shouted, side-stepping into shooting range. The flashlight from his camera reflected off the dumpster as Garfield watched in horror when the man's involuntary muscle spasms slowed down into a terrifying stillness. He gulped and swallowed at his fear, reminding himself of his training as an officer of the law.

Despite the cool air of the night, beads of sweat pooled on Garfield's temples and a few even slid down his back. His heart was pumping pure adrenaline, going a mile a minute within his chest, and a creeping chill was making all the fine hairs on his body stand on end. Nonetheless, he held his gun steady. "I said come out!"

The slurping had come to a halt, and he heard some shuffling before he saw a pair of blood-splattered, black pumps emerge into the light.

He moved his phone up, taking in a pair of long, pale, shapely legs when they came into view. The dress the assailant wore was plum red satin, the tight material sitting immodestly a few inches below her hips. Her hands — a ghostly white — came down to smooth the shiny, rumpled fabric, her nails sharp and dipped in crimson. There were blotchy stains of blood all along her arms and neck, and also right down the cut of her dress and onto her breasts, which were pushed up in exaggeration by her bra. The straps had slid down her shoulders, and there were tears in the delicate fabric, and angry red scratch marks marred her perfect ivory skin, no doubt from the man's struggle before he'd been killed.

But perhaps the most disturbing aspect was the amount of bright red red gore that stained her dainty chin, streaming down from her hungry, bloodied lips to splatter onto her chest.

Eyes like molten lava glowed in the dark, and Garfield felt like he'd had the wind knocked out of him. The gun shook in his hand, unsteady for the first time in his life. His fingers and palms were sweating, and he almost lost his grip on his phone.

Her hair — a dark smudge against her pale features — had gotten longer, skimming her slender shoulders, but otherwise, nothing else had changed about Raven. Not even the way she regarded him. With the same piqued curiosity she'd worn several years ago, she flashed her blood-stained fangs in a smile of slow recognition.

"Garfield Logan."

Her lips were tinged with blood when she rolled the tip of her pink tongue to lick her mouth clean, the carnage written all over her in a scene of grotesque horror. Garfield then shakily flashed his light at her victim, hoping that by some miracle, he might still have been alive. The man's chest did not rise, and the thick blood splattered around his upper body oozed into a dark pool beneath him made that made bile rise to Garfield's throat. There was also the vile stench of human excrement coming from the deceased, and it forced him to cover his nose and mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. "Dear God…" He knocked his back into the brick wall of the narrow alley, wondering if he'd be able to keep down the contents of his stomach.

Raven wiped at her stained, wet mouth with her arm, succeeding in only smearing more of the warm, frothing blood all over her jaw and cheek. "I hate that you have to see me this way," she pouted. Her feigned innocence wasn't half as charming when she wore another person's insides on her skin.

Garfield stumbled backwards, teeth chattering as he trembled at the scene of the crime. "I...I have to arrest you. I need to take you in." There was no command in his tone though, and all it did was make her laugh, the sound rich and velvety, just like it was in the dreams she haunted.

His threat was empty and he knew it. If anything, it merely annoyed her in the same way a goddess might have grown tired of a mortal's incessant chattering. Raven could snap his neck if she wanted to, and she had no issue making that fact apparent to him. Garfield knew that her current victim's fate could have easily been his own seven years ago. That blood-curdling thought was enough to make him gag, his intestines twisting into a knot as acid burned his esophagus.

" _If we cross paths again however, I won't spare you."_

Her words echoed in his mind like a gentle, foreboding reminder, his heartbeat ringing in his ears. It was all Garfield could do not look at the man lying in a puddle of his own blood, thinking that he was perhaps gleaning an image of his potential future now as well.

"You can certainly try, _officer_. It _is_ officer now, right?" she queried, eyeing him up and down brazenly. When he didn't reply — too stunned to speak, she went on, "I wouldn't suggest it though to be honest. Unless you want to end up like _that_ guy." She threw her thumb over her shoulder, implicating the dead man still bleeding out by a litter of full garbage bags.

"Jesus Christ, you killed him. You _fucking_ killed him!" Garfield was starting to panic now, none of his training having prepared him for dealing with something ancient and powerful and _supernatural_.

Raven shrugged her shoulders with indifference, adjusting the thin black straps of her bra as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "He won't be missed. A rapist who'd gotten away with hurting too many women."

"That's not for you to decide. You aren't the law!" Garfield couldn't keep his gun pointed straight at her no matter how hard he tried to quell the shake of his hands. Not that it mattered; she was hardly bothered by the weapon's presence.

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm no vigilante hero. I ate him because I was _hungry_. But let's face it here; your precious law is what protects scum like him."

She dusted off the dirt from her dress, as if the blood stains meant nothing to her, not on a night like Halloween where she'd undoubtedly blend in with the crowd. Then, she began walking towards him, the clicking of her heels against the gravel echoing in the alley.

"Don't come any closer or I'll shoot," he warned.

Raven cocked her head to the side, pausing halfway on her route to him. "Oh, Gar. We both know you won't do that. So put your weapon down and let's have a proper reunion, hmm?"

He shook his head slowly, trying to steady both his phone and his gun in his sweaty hands.

She exhaled and rolled her eyes. "Fine. Let's do it your way then."

Raven was a blur of red when she closed the gap between them in a blink of an eye, disarming him like she'd taken away a toy from the grasp of a child. Helplessly, he watched her twist the metal in her hands like it was putty, before tossing the gun behind her, all the while maintaining eye contact. Years of police work and experience, and she'd made him look like an _amateur_. Too stunned to do anything about it, Garfield succumbed to his fate and raised his arms in surrender, the colour draining from his face.

Raven was staring at him, her eyes cold and unfeeling. The pretty little thing he'd encountered several years ago was but a shadow behind eyes that burned like embers and the massacre of blood that sprayed her ivory skin.

"Are you going to kill me now?" he asked, squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation when she leaned in towards him. No matter how hard he tried to grasp for it, Garfield could not find his fear of death itself. Maybe for once, he'd finally be able to sleep, and that thought actually put his weary soul at ease. "Just get it over with already."

But death did not answer him. At least, not in the way he'd anticipated.

"I told you that you'd want to die." There was a shift in her tone now; she was pitying him, he could see it on her face. The threat had been neutralized now that she'd disarmed him, and she'd also just fed, adding a new rosy hue to her cheeks. Once more, she resembled the girl he'd met years ago; the one who'd so boldly dipped herself into a bathtub of green paint just for an excuse to kiss him.

Raven closed the distance between them and ran her hands up along his chest, feeling the delicious warmth of his skin seep through the material of his dress shirt. With his back against a wall, he had nowhere else to go, and he'd dropped his phone in surprise when she'd rushed at him. "I might have saved you a life's worth of trouble by killing you when I should have. But what a waste that would have been."

She fingered a lock of his golden hair after stroking his cheek affectionately, being sure to nuzzle her body against him for heat. If it weren't for the glow of her iridescent eyes, she'd have seemed entirely human, right down to the puffs of air that she exhaled in the cold night. "The world needs more people like you, love." Her eyes strayed a moment too long on the curve of his lips, a look of a timeless longing reflected on her features.

He grabbed her by the wrist, fingers encircling it, so fragile in his grip and yet capable of so much destruction. In the darkness, he couldn't see the dried, caked blood in the lines of her palms, or stuck beneath her fingernails, but he knew it was there all the same. With a pained look, he asked her, "What did you do to me that night? Why can't I _forget_ you?"

"I marked you," she admitted truthfully, but not without a hint of empathy in her pitch. " _You are mine_. You always have been. Forever and always."

Raven cupped his face, and pulled him down towards her until their noses brushed. "You are enthralled and you cannot fight it. Just as I cannot help wanting _you_."

In her gravitational field, he immediately knew that she was right; he couldn't pull away from her, and he was aching to reach out and _take her_. His hands rested on top of hers, moving to caress her arms before he burrowed his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet, heady perfume like it was a cure for his disease. It was pathetic how weak he was, but his inhibitions were nowhere to be found, not even when she was drenched in another man's blood.

Raven placed a kiss on his temple, lingering to savour the moment, her fingers knotting in the hairs at the nape of his neck. "No matter how many you take to your bed, you'll never love them. I thought that maybe...you'd still be able to live a normal life, and I'm glad to see that you have, in some way. But that woman waiting for you at home? You'd only break her heart, like you did the others before her."

His arms wrapped around her waist and he pulled her against him roughly, his arousal pressing into her abdomen. Garfield kissed under her jaw, and it was a like a spark had reignited somewhere deep within his soul. His hunger for her was renewed with a heated fervor he could never deny. She was beneath his skin, in his lungs, coursing through his veins, and he'd never been so hard in his life. He thrust against her desperately, hands shamelessly exploring, hating the vexing silk of her dress keeping him away from her delightful skin.

She moaned, throwing her head back to grant him more access to her throat. His hands worked their way under the hem of her already too short dress and cupped her ass, scrunching up the material even higher as he squeezed her flesh. Raven almost stumbled in her heels, but his grip was like iron, steadying her even as she swayed in his arms.

"Mmmmm," she purred when he littered kisses all along her neck, his mouth slipping to her collarbone before burying his face into her ample bosom.

Raven grabbed fistfuls of his hair as he sucked at her pale flesh, forgetting that the the iron tang in his mouth was from the dried blood splatter marring her skin. He couldn't bring himself to care, so entranced by her and so incredibly horny that he feared not satisfying the craving would be the death of him. How many nights had he wasted fantasizing of her, how many had he spent jerking off in his shower to the memory of her? As he growled and dug his fingertips into her rounded buttcheeks, nipping at her breasts with his hungry mouth, he thought, _too long_.

She rubbed against him, one of her legs climbing around his so that she could meet his thrusts with an equal ferocity. Little sharp gasps fell from her mouth every time he grazed at her flesh with both teeth and tongue.

Garfield had dreamt of this moment. Of reuniting with her. They'd had one night of incredible sex, and then nothing else would ever compare. Nothing left him sated anymore. No woman felt like her when he was sheathed within them, no one else's mouth felt the same around his cock, no woman tasted as sweet as her when he'd eat them out. Not even the orgasms were half as good, always leaving something to be desired. He'd be damned if he didn't finally get the release he'd longed for since that Halloween night, seven years ago.

Raven then yanked his head up by his hair, eyes gleaming blood red in the moonlight, her gemstone a dark mark on her forehead. "Fuck me already," she demanded impatiently, her breathing coming in heavy and labored.

With a flushed face and tousled hair, she looked even more lovely than he remembered, and Garfield wouldn't waste another moment wondering about her otherness. His want for her was all-consuming and all that mattered. Satisfying her was his only goal, and he'd have done anything to please her. Switching positions, he then pushed Raven up face first against the building wall, her cheek pressed against the cold brick. She didn't hesitate to ground her hips against his erection, which was tenting in his now tight fitting pants. He growled and made to quickly undo his belt with flimsy, shaking fingers. Raven chuckled at his reaction, enjoying how rock hard she could make him with so little as a touch. With her dress shimmied up to her waist, Garfield easily pushed her thong aside before finally penetrating her with a contented sigh that she matched. He plunged in and out of her slick entrance at an unbearably slow pace, getting a feel for her as they both let out pleasured, guttural moans.

"Fuck, you're so tight and wet," he whispered into her ear when she wiggled against him, desperate for him to move faster.

Raven bit her bottom lip, panting but giddy, intoxicated by the way he felt inside of her, so stiff and willing, twitching against her walls. "What are you waiting for, officer? Finish what you've started."

He grabbed her by the chin and kissed her deeply, his tongue dipping between her lips as she moaned into his mouth, still grinding her hips even when he was nestled as deep a he could be. Savouring the way she felt with him sheathed inside of her, Garfield gripped her by the hips before he slowly started thrusting again at a more liberal pace.

"Nghhh," she mewled against his mouth, her eyes rolling back as she met each one of his thrusts. "Don't you dare stop," Raven huffed, breathless, eventually holding his gaze with her own as he continued to move between her warm, wet folds. Garfield picked up speed, driving himself harder into her every time, the sound of flesh slapping flesh echoing in the narrow alleyway.

As requested, he fucked her mercilessly against the brick wall, their frantic moans drowned out by the other sounds of the city's nightlife. When he came, Garfield saw stars, pumping her full of his hot seed in a few satisfactory, final pumps. Raven's own orgasm came just as quick, her walls tightening around his throbbing member and pushing him to the edge. They stayed in that position until their breathing returned to something more normal, with Garfield's hands on her supple breasts as they'd escaped the confinement of her bra.

" _La petite mort_ ," she stated, her voice hoarse and ragged. Using her hands to push herself up against the wall, she stood with an unsteady gait. Raven then blew at the strands of her hair that had fallen into her face, and maintained a satisfied, lazy grin. The blood had dried against her fair complexion, and she was flushed from their rigorous activity, covered in sweat. "Aptly named, wouldn't you agree?"

He didn't answer her, still trying to catch his breath as fatigue tugged at his subconscious. He hadn't had an orgasm like that in _years_ , and it was the first time he'd actually finished without feeling the insufferable ache within his loins.

When he pulled out of her, bits of his cum slipped down the inside of her thigh, thick and white. His own cock was covered in her moisture, bobbing in the air as it gleamed in the dim light. Garfield was still breathing hard, his heart racing. He did up his pants again, and Raven tried to take a step on wobbly legs. "Mmm, now I remember the other reason I let you live," she teased, bringing a finger to her lips.

Garfield wiped at the sweat of his brow with his sleeve. "So, what do we do now?"

Raven fixed her dress for what was the second time that night, shimmying it down to a decent length again. She then glanced up and around her, taking in the starry sky and enjoying the wind that blew through her hair. It picked up the leaves on the ground and took them for a twirl, making Raven appear almost witch-like as they fluttered about her. Clammy skin cooling off, she cooed to him in her velvety tone, "The night's still young. We have more time."

Her meaning was not lost on him, and under normal circumstances, he wouldn't be ready for more so soon, but his flaccid member was already twitching back to life at her beck and call.

Raven walked past him on shaking legs towards the body that still lay by the dumpster behind them, her heels clicking against the cement. She snapped her fingers and an infinite, black portal appeared beneath the dead man, swallowing him up immediately into its light-leeching darkness. Garfield gulped, blinking in hopes that he could unsee what he'd just witnessed, reminded yet again that there was nothing _human_ about the woman he'd met several years ago. The woman he'd just made love to and planned to do so again throughout the night.

She then bent down to pick up his mangled gun, and tossed it in after the body before the portal disappeared entirely. Not even a drop of blood remained, like her magic had been a vacuum, sucking up all of the evidence he'd need to arrest her. Noticing the look on his face, Raven reminded him, "Like I said, no one will be missing a rapist."

Garfield let out the breath he'd been holding and pushed the front of his hair back from his face.

"Now, there's a hotel within walking distance, and sex always works up my appetite," Raven told him, using her hand to flick her hair from sticking the back of her sweaty neck.

Garfield's eyes widened, and she elaborated, sighing exasperatedly, "For a _burger and fries_ , duh. A girl's still got to eat _real_ food every now and again."

She then strutted towards the exit of the alley, where the streetlights were glaringly bright and cars zoomed by on the bustling road, blissfully oblivious to her illegal nighttime activities. Meanwhile, Garfield had no idea what to do with himself. He was in a haze, the same one that fogged his mind every Halloween. He couldn't help but think he was forgetting something; something _important_. For the life of him, he didn't know what it was, but the more pressing issue was _her,_ and he couldn't think past that. Raven had always been at the forefront of his thoughts, but now that he was in her presence, she overwhelmed him.

When Garfield didn't follow after her immediately, she paused and turned her head. "Aren't you coming?"

Of course he was. There was no way he'd suffer the rest of his life without her. Seven years had been agonizing enough, and now that he had reunited with her — in what had been a chance encounter — he'd never let her out of his sight again. Still, his feet remained rooted to the spot, and the nagging feeling returned tenfold. Shaking his head, he convinced himself that there was nothing amiss, and finally stepped out of the shadows to join her.

Garfield took off his jacket and swung it over her slender shoulders, earning him a genuine smile for the gesture, while Raven wrapped it tighter about her smaller frame. By the time his phone went off in the alley for the dozenth time that night, his girlfriend's name and picture flashing on the screen before heading to voicemail, Garfield was already out of earshot...

* * *

She drew lazy circles on his chest with the point of her finger. The floor of their shared hotel room was littered with their quickly discarded clothes, leading in a messy trail from the front of the door. They'd been impatient by the time they'd reached the room, hands roaming one another's bodies while they'd kissed fervently in the hallway, stumbling along the carpeted floors.

At some point they'd winded up in the shower too, washing off the grime and blood from Raven's skin and hair before she'd hopped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her hair was still a bit damp even now, and she smiled fondly at the memory of his tongue working diligently between her thighs until her legs had quivered and she'd screamed his name like a prayer.

Raven was snuggled beneath his arm, head resting against his torso, the clean, crisp sheets enveloping them both, twisting among their entangled limbs. She watched him sleep, his chest rising and falling with every breath.

"I'm going to keep him," she whispered, knowing of the presence in the room before she'd made herself apparent.

Kory stepped out of the shadows, folding her arms over her chest as she judged the couple cuddling on the king-sized bed. "A pet? I thought you'd never, Raven." There was amusement colouring her tone, almost condescending.

"I can't leave him. He'll wither away, and he's far too pretty for that."

The redhead's eyes widened, her brows shooting up. "Is _this_ the one you spoke about? The man you spared?"

One corner of her mouth lifted in a smirk as she nodded, still watching him snooze peacefully. "He wanted to go for _coffee_ , Kory. Since when do they offer to go on dates? I knew from that moment that he was different somehow. And why not? This world is full of petty men who don't deserve to draw breath. How could I take away one of the few who _does_?"

"In a way, haven't you already?" Kory folded her arms over her chest, walking over to pick through the duffel bag he'd brought in with them and tossed aside on a nearby chair.

Raven's brows furrowed and she sat up in the bed, dragging the sheet with her. Jutting out her bottom lip in defiance, she said, "I don't think so. I gave him _seven years_ to lead a happy life in this miserable place. Kory, you should have seen him; he was just about ready to kill himself."

"I suppose that _is_ better than the alternative," the other woman noted dryly, pulling out Garfield's police uniform from his bag of personal items.

Raven rolled out of bed in all her naked glory and yanked the dress shirt out of Kory's hands just as she'd raised it to examine in the moonlight. "What alternative?" Raven snapped.

Her friend's eyes gleamed an unnatural green hue as she grinned toothily, fangs on proud display. "Eating him, of course."

Kory shrugged as Raven's jaw hung open, speechless.

"Anyways, you were back pretty late, and I wanted to check up on you. But I think your new playmate is about to wake, so I'll make myself scarce before I scare him off." She kept her smile, the threat of her long, sharp canines sparkling with promise. The strange, buxom woman then disappeared the same way she'd appeared; beyond the shadows, as if the darkness could swallow her whole.

Sure enough, Garfield stirred, and opened his eyes. Roused, he looked around sleepily for the woman no longer cradled in his arms. When they found her standing by the desk, he appeared more at ease. "I thought I was dreaming…" His voice was thick with sleep and he yawned, stretching out his limbs.

"Disappointed?" she asked him, putting on his shirt for modesty.

Through the haze of sleep — one he'd more than earned — Garfield gave her a genuine smile, dimples prominent against the lines around his mouth. "Looks good on you," he commented, ignoring her previous question.

Raven glanced down at the unbuttoned shirt, hitting just a bit below her thighs. The swell of her breasts were very much on display, and the pale, powder blue of the material brought some colour to her skin. Smiling, she then dug around his duffel bag for his matching cap, and donned it on her head in a lopsided manner. "Now, all I need are a pair of cuffs, and this could get interesting," she teased, jumping onto the bed before crawling over top of him.

She then grabbed his hand and examined his fingers before slipping one into her mouth, sucking on it slowly until his breathing almost stopped. Letting go, she leaned in and stole a chaste kiss, feeling him smile beneath her as she straddled his hips.

Garfield then took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, placing a kiss on each of her knuckles while staring into her endless eyes. "As for being disappointed, the answer is no."

A softness enriched the colour of her irises, taking on a burgundy hue akin to a rich, red wine. "Are you sure you're ready for eternity, love?"

"With you?" He kissed the inside of her wrist, where her pulse came to life. "Eternity wouldn't be long enough."

"Well, you certainly are an ambitious one," she beamed. He grinned back and, in one swift motion, changed their positions so that she was underneath him, the hat falling off her head to land on the floor. He then hooked her leg — long and smooth — over his hip, his erection bobbing between the warmth of her thighs and nudging at her entrance. Garfield captured her mouth with his, nipping at her lips before dragging his tongue along their opening.

Pulling away before he could deepen the kiss, Raven suggested, "Why don't we just start with coffee for now?"

* * *

 **A/N:** _Thanks for reading and Happy (Belated) Halloween! :D_


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